


Exposed

by Laeviss



Series: Wranduin Week 2020 [9]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Catching a Flu, Dragon AU, Huddling For Warmth, Love Confessions, M/M, Wranduin Week 2020, Wranduin Week Holiday Event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: The white dragon Anduin falls ill one night while he's traveling with Wrathion in Pandaria. Wrathion must decide how much he's willing to reveal about himself in order to keep his companion warm. Written for the Wranduin Week Holiday Event Day 3 Prompts "Catching a Flu" and "Cold Night!"
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Wranduin Week 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914982
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flarenwrath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flarenwrath/gifts).



> Based on my boyfriend Flarenwrath and I's Wranduin dragon AU! I hope you enjoy it!

Wrathion crossed his arms, leaning against the maw of the cave where he and the other dragon had settled for the night, his red eyes fixed on a single flake of snow as it curled on the biting wind. He crunched the trail of snow that had drifted in under his heel, packing it into the mud. Brows furrowed and lips set in a line, he kept watch, until a groan from the cavern behind him broke his focus.

Pivoting on the upturned toe of his boot, he headed deeper into the space. In the far corner, a white wing unfurled, then settled, tucked against an equally pearly abdomen. Not sure what to say, the Black Prince paced around their makeshift fire, nudging the largest log, sending a shower of sparks in the air.

Their reflection danced on Anduin’s half lidded eye. The closer he got, the more acutely he became aware of the dragon’s plummeting temperature. Where there should have been heat and power there was...nothing. A yawning absence. A chill that crawled up Wrathion’s spine and made his shoulders quiver. 

Clearing his throat, he murmured, as he watched the white dragon’s slit pupil shrink. “Anduin? Are you still awake?”

“—Yes,” came a low reply rumbling from within his chest. “Yes, I think so.”

“Excellent,” Wrathion replied, though any suaveness he might have summoned during better times faded on the tip of his tongue. “Now, please, try to stay focused on the fire. In an hour or so, I will head further up the mountain to seek aid. Until then, the most important thing you can do is stay warm.”

“I’ll try,” the white dragon whispered, his voice meek but earnest. A pause set in. After Wrathion circled around the fire and settled against the opposite wall beyond its halo, Anduin added, even meeker, “Will the mortals come here?”

“It can’t be helped, I’m afraid. While I can’t be certain these pandaren will know what to do with us, at the very least they might have a warming cup of tea or whiskey to make the experience more bearable. And perhaps, if you feel up to shifting to your mortal form, they will open their homes to us for a night or two.”

“Oh…” Anduin trailed off, lifting his head to respond, only to tuck it into his wing as a tremble raced up his crested back. “Oh, I—I don’t want to intrude like that.” He admitted into his pearly scales.

“Nonsense. Mortal healers live for that sort of thing. And if it becomes a problem, I will pass them one of my gems as repayment. It isn’t as if I’m in any danger of running out.”

“I guess so…”

To emphasize his point, Wrathion lifted his hand and turned his wrist in. A flicker from the fire caught the large ruby nestled gold prongs of the ring on his middle finger. A few flecks of light scattered across the wall above Anduin’s draconic head.

The white dragon shifted, scratching at the dirt. A faint curl of smoke escaped between gritted teeth. Another shudder crawled up his back to shake his folded wings, and Wrathion frowned, withdrawing his hand to smooth out the front of his coat. 

Had the other dragon ever spoken long enough with a mortal to understand their dealings? 

Wrathion knew, from snippets of whispered conversations across night tables and momentary lapses of privacy around the occasional campfire, that Anduin had been held by mortals, in a dungeon or some such thing in a place he called Scarlet Monastery. He had seen mortals, had witnessed their ruthless pursuit of power as they flooded his veins with a power that bleached his red scales, but had he ever spoken to one, bartered with one for a loaf of bread?

Had he ever leaned against the wall with arms crossed and a broad grin on his face as his mortal constituents struck a bargain, knowing that at any moment, he could turn the conversation with a flick of his wrist or a skillful murmur? He imagined not, by the way he froze every time they approached a food vendor or needed to ask for passage to another town. 

Letting out a low sigh that sent a hiss of smoke through his nostrils, the Black Prince shuffled around the back of the fire, coming to stand a few feet from the white dragon’s bowed head. Poking at the largest log jutting out from the fire, he sent another crackle of sparks into the darkness above. 

Anduin’s heavy lid lifted slightly, and the secondary lid below peeled to the sides. Though he watched the embers brighten to a brilliant orange, his slit pupils stayed dilated and unfocused. Another shiver sent his tail writhing, cutting an arc across the dirt and kicking up a cloud on the other side of the fire. Beyond, streaks of white cut across the mouth of the cave, obstructing the world beyond from view. 

The white dragon settled with a soft hmph. Wrathion’s heart clenched, and he swallowed, lowering his arms to his sides and scooting closer along the wall.

When he drew close enough to hear the other dragon’s erratic breath, he slid down to the earth beside him. Tilting back his head and running his hand through his curls, he willed the tension from his shoulders, focusing on anything from the wail of the wind outside to the comforting acridity of smoke inhaled through his nose. Anything to keep his mind off the shudder and wince of the other dragon beside him.

After a pause and a few deep breaths, he had almost quelled his concerns to a nag in the back of his mind. Then, the other dragon shifted again, his clamoring shaking the ground beneath Wrathion’s crossed legs and his voice cutting through the space between them:

“Could you transform? Please…?”

Snapping forward, Wrathion crossed his arms, fixing his eyes upon the fire as he replied, “What?”

“Transform. It would be warmer for both of us. Please…”

“I’m comfortable enough like this, but thank you for your concern, your Highness.” His voice quivered on the final word. Hoping to mask it, he gave his curly head a shake and unfurled his wrist to a shrug. His gold bracelets jingled before disappearing under his sleeve. Their muffled clatter vibrated to silence before he added, on the heels of a sigh. “In any case, there would hardly be room for two of us. We’d likely have to put out the fire.”

“That’s okay,” Anduin whispered. It seemed he would leave it at that, but then he tucked in his tail and rolled towards the wall, exposing the soft, pearly scales of his abdomen. His blue eyes opened; they bored into the side of Wrathion’s face. Tightening his jaw, he quirked a brow. The next lungful of smoke he inhaled caught in the back of his throat. 

“I know what you are, you know,” Anduin admitted. 

“And what is that?” Wrathion was quick to retort.

Anduin stiffened. The talons tucked by his chest curled inwards and his sharp teeth clenched. After a moment, he whispered, “I know you are a black dragon.”

“Excellent deduction, your Highness, truly. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“—And I don’t mind. Really. I don’t want you to have to hide it anymore. I want you to know, you can just—”

“I can just _what_ , Andustrasz? Fly with you to the Twilight Highlands? Come meet your mother at the Wyrmrest Temple? Really, I don’t see why we’re having this conversation. No time spent staring at my black scales is going to make you well.”

Wrathion cursed the way the words stung as they flew from the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t stop them. Tugging his arms to his chest, he tucked his long fingers in his coat, pressing his palms against his sides. His thoughts turned to voices, soft, but devoid of warmth, the way they scoffed as they encircled his egg... 

“If anything, it’s likely to cause you even greater distress.”

“You don’t know that.” Anduin lifted his head. His maw curled into a grimace that revealed a row of pointed teeth and a red tongue pressed between them. There was an ache behind those words that shook Wrathion to the pit of his stomach.

He wanted to argue, but his tongue fell limp against the floor of his mouth. He pursed his lips to hide its useless curl, to muffle the choked sound that threatened to escape him. Finally, he cleared his throat, and managed a single question. “When did you figure it out?”

“Since pretty much the first day we met.”

“I see.”

“—I know who you are, Wrathion,” Anduin continued, slowly, as if he were choosing every word before uttering it. Even through the haze and strain of his voice, he sounded clear, resolved. “I know what my flight did to you, and I know that you suffered. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you would know, wouldn’t you, dragon prince?” The words leapt from Wrathion’s throat. He regretted them the moment they hit the air, but he knew he couldn’t reclaim them, no matter how gruff or dismissive they sounded. Drawing back his shoulders and setting his jaw in a line, he narrowed his eyes and studied the embers, the way the light within them swelled, passing in oranges and reds across their gray faces, leaving a thick white dust in their wake. 

Beside him, Anduin stared. In a wavering voice, he responded with far more benevolence than the black dragon felt he deserved: “Yeah, you’re right. I would.”

A heavy silence descended upon them. The groan of the wind moving before the cave maw matched the groan of the white dragon’s breath behind his teeth. 

Balling up the hem of his coat between his fingers, twisting and tugging at the gold piping, Wrathion struggled to piece together a response. After a time, he exhaled, and muttered, “Ah, well, I suppose I’m no longer corrupted, at least.”

“Wrathion—”

The dragon beside him shifted with a light flit of his wing against the wall. Before Wrathion had time to react, a small, white maw nudged against his outer thigh, before handing with a soft, cold thud between his crossed legs.

He looked down, his crimson eyes widening. When he uncrossed his arms, he left them to hover in the space above Anduin’s head, not sure if he should touch, or push him away, or rest a gentle palm across his brow…

The other dragon’s breath against his thigh was cold. Where it should have heated his sage silk pants and warmed the skin below, there was a...lack, a total absence that shook Wrathion to his core. When his eyelids fluttered and he groaned, the weight of it moved through the earth beneath them and into the pit of Wrathion’s stomach.

Anduin, Andustrasz, this red dragon who clung to him from their first moments off the boat in this strange land, might not be okay, and Wrathion, the Black Prince, didn’t have any idea how to handle the waning of his warmth. 

Drawing his lips into a nervous line, he blinked, chasing back another jolt of fear as it ripped the blood from his cheeks. With his hand still hovering above the white dragon’s head, inches from the dulled opal of his pearly crest, Wrathion flexed his fingers, drawing them back towards his wrist. His long nails caught the light of the fire, flickering and dancing.

He couldn’t let himself risk Prince Anduin’s life. Before he could hesitate, he reached down and extracted the dragon’s head from his lap, gently setting him aside. A low rumble rose from the white dragon’s chest, but it stopped abrupting when Wrathion rose and took a step towards the fire.

With the heel of his curled toe boot, he stamped out the flames, bathing them both in shadow. Once shrouded, he allowed himself to transform, his limbs shrinking and two wings sprouting from his back. As his torso lengthened and scales overcame his skin, he slithered closer. He passed the scattered ashes of their campfire and moved into the gap between it and Anduin, settling against him without pressing in too close. 

The other dragon let out a sigh and rested his maw between Wrathion’s horns. His heart thudded, shaking the crest along Wrathion’s back, but the Black Prince didn’t readjust. 

Clenching his teeth, staring into the dark, he curled his tail in, even as the other dragon’s tail wrapped around to entwine with it. 

The heat he radiated chased away another bout of shivers. After a weighty pause, Andustrasz whispered, soft against the curve of his scaly neck. 

“Thank you, Wrathion. I appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me,” he managed, though his voice lacked its usual lilt. “Just, please, try to get some rest. I will make for town in the morning.”

“Okay.” Another pause, another silence that left Wrathion wondering if the other dragon had dozed off, cut short by a growl, another murmur, and a maw nuzzling against the back of his head.

“Just...be safe, okay?”

“I will. But really, there’s no need to worry about me. Think of yourself, Dragon Prince.”

“I—” The white dragon paused. His tail tightened around him, twisting with his at the tip and resting against the soft, black scales of his lower abdomen. Outside, the wind howled, and a few flakes of snow drifted into the cave to lick at their curled lower backs. 

Neither lifted their heads to look. Wrathion squeezed closed his fiery eyes and focused on transferring as much heat as possible to the other dragon, while Anduin groaned and hid his maw between his horns. After a few ragged breaths, Anduin drifted off. 

A few moments later, he whispered, groggy, half-delirious.

“I love you, Wrathion.”


End file.
